"What type of museum? Art, right?" His eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror, which she'd been using to study the side of his forehead. She glanced down, feeling like she'd been caught. She started rummaging in her bag for nothing in particular, wanting something to do with herself as he continued to watch her. They were stopped at another light.
"Yes, art. Is that obvious?" She glanced down at her…um, artful outfit.
"You look like the right-brained type," he said, and she laughed.
"I didn't know a person could look right-brained."
She could tell from his tone that he was smiling. "Some people wear their creativity on their sleeves," he said.
"Yeah, that." She laughed. "There's a story there. Trust me when I tell you this cab ride isn't long enough for me to go into it."
She glanced up, and she could see the dimple again as he drove, the traffic loosening up a bit as they rounded a corner and sped down the next block. He mumbled something that sounded like, "That's a crying shame."
Nicki looked out the window at the dim sidewalks flashing past in alternating stretches of darkened storefronts and grimy neon. The whole landscape of the city had seemingly changed since she'd stepped off the curb and into Huck's car. That was one thing she loved about New York—it was more than just a city. It was a thousand little cities crammed into three hundred square miles, each neighborhood's distinct vibe and flavor forming the threads of a complex, urban web. The boundaries might be blurred, but they were real.
She turned her eyes back to the mirror, the car darker now as Huck drove through a maze of quiet, mostly residential blocks. "Since we're generalizing," she said, "you don't look much like a cab driver."
"It's not a cab. It's Uber," he said in an enigmatic tone, flashing a smile that was illuminated in the rearview mirror as he swung a right onto a brightly lit avenue. The urban landscape had changed again, and Nicki felt an odd pull of dread in the pit of her stomach as she guessed their ride together was almost over.
Sure enough, what seemed like seconds later he shifted left onto Bleecker Street, catching a rare green light, and then he eased the car to the curb—at least as close as he could get to the curb with the parked cars that lined the street on this block. There was barely enough room for the cars behind them to squeeze slowly past. Another driver laid on his horn as he drove by, and Nicki found herself thinking, What's the point? Logistics in New York rendered impatience futile. She'd figured out that much on this trek through the city, if nothing else.
"You meeting people here?" Huck asked, pulling Nicki out of her head and causing another twist of wistfulness in her stomach. Would it be weird to ask her cab driver—oops, Uber-driver—to come in and have a drink with her?
Just then another passing driver honked, and Nicki glanced left to spot him shaking his fist as he navigated around their car, his lips moving rapidly. Nick was sure that guy looked like the stereotypical New York cab driver, and then she shook her head and giggled.
"No, actually. I'm on my own tonight. I'd planned to meet some friends, but apparently I didn't plan very well…" She laughed again, and saw that his brow was furrowed.
"Well, have…fun?" he said. "Be careful."
She was out of the car now, her stilettos on the pavement, and she bent down and shot him a curious look over the backseat. He was twisted sideways, watching her with a concerned expression. Her heart gave a little lurch, but her head was indignant. "I can take care of myself," she said, attempting to sound playful. Instead, the words came out cold and rebellious.
Great, now he probably thought she was the type to go commando and carry handcuffs in her suitcase. Oh, well. It wasn't like she'd ever see him again.
She turned on one stacked heel, almost losing her balance along with her dignity, and marched away from Huck's car, threading between a parked Smart Car and an SUV that looked hulking and out of place on the cramped street. She stepped carefully onto the curb. The swinging, hanging sign for the bar was one door down, next to an open stand that was hawking tourist T-shirts, and the sidewalk was bustling with people out for a fun summer night in the Village. Nicki glanced around herself in interest, forgetting about her Uber experience and thinking of the unknown night ahead.
A group of college-age girls pushed past her, not seeming to notice her at all as they chattered and giggled, all of them balancing on shoes as stilt-like as the ones she wore. She looked a little less out of place here, though she still felt as if she were dressed for Halloween—as Nicole, the right-brained, red-lipsticked temptress and West Coast fish out of water.
She hustled toward the bar, tugged the door handle, and slipped inside before she could lose her nerve. It took her a few seconds, again, to orient herself. The bars she went to at home were breezy and laid-back, and this place was anything but. The light was so dim it was almost black, except for a red glow that emanated from a four-sided, rectangular wood bar in the center of the space. The bar had a roof of sorts suspended above it, and at each corner, sturdy wood swings hung from thick chains, taking the place of barstools. The seats between the swings were covered—of course—in blood red leather. Music pulsed so loudly that the place felt more like a nightclub than a bar. Nicki glanced around, almost expecting to see people dancing.
The crowd was mostly twenty-something, but she still stuck out like a sore…toe, mainly because she seemed to be the only person here solo. What did I expect? It wasn't like too many people went out alone trolling bars for companionship, and she was pretty sure she didn't want to meet up with anybody who was here for that reason.
She glanced around for an empty seat, and at that moment a group of three people peeled themselves away from the bar, leaving the prime spot—the front corner swing—open. Nicki thought she was already conspicuous, so she strode forward with her head held high and slid onto the swing just as two guys approached it. The swing was next to two open barstools, and they sprang for them. She could sense their disappointment, but at least she'd saved them from deciding which one of them got the cool seat.
Now she knew—besides the obvious—the reason this place was called "The Playground." Jockeying for position, nabbing the open swing, finding somebody to play with—the metaphors were endless.
Two bartenders, a guy and a girl, worked the entire bar, which probably sat thirty or more. Nicki swung in silence for six or seven minutes before the woman approached her, black-clad, with bangs that were plastered down the side of her forehead with sweat. The guys beside Nicki hadn't so much as looked in her direction and, vaguely disappointed, she'd pulled out her iPhone and was texting with Briana.
"I'll have a Manhattan," she said, thinking it was appropriate, if a little lame. As the bartender nodded and rushed off, Nicki's phone chimed with a new text.
Wish u were here. Would love ur opinion on Zach. Fraid I won't think he's this hot in morning?
Nicki laughed out loud. Briana was at a bar, too, and it sounded like the party was happening where she was. At the very least, she was with people, and they were talking to her. Nicki wished desperately she had enough time to make the two-hour trek across Long Island to join her friend.
As she covered her lips with the back of her hand, the guys beside her finally seemed to take notice of her as something beyond the swing stealer.
"You here by yourself?" the closest one asked. He had a mousey face, kind of long and tapered at the chin, and a pasty complexion. His five o'clock shadow was pale blond, and his hair was barely any longer than his stubble—camouflaging a receding hairline. He had faint lines around his eyes, older than she originally guessed. His eyes scanned down her body as if they could pierce straight through her clothes. Her skin crawled where his eyes traveled, and her women's intuition kicked in.
"No, my boyfriend's meeting me," she said, and the guy nodded and turned back to his friend, no longer interested.
Nicki felt an incongruous prick of disappointment. This night was so not going as she'd hoped when she'd stepped off the plane thi
s afternoon. She glanced around, and everybody was absorbed in their own conversations—talking, laughing, having a great time on this Saturday night in the city. Her eyes wandered to the TV above the bar—all four sides had a mounted flat screen—but it was showing nonsense, just some swarthy music videos that didn't go along with the music pulsing from the speakers. The bartender showed up and plunked a martini glass in front of her on the glossy wood.
"Wanna start a tab?" she asked hurriedly.
"Nah, I'll just pay for this one," Nicki said, handing the chick the credit card she already had out of her purse and at the ready. Her meeting was early tomorrow anyway. Couldn't hurt to get in early, get a good night's sleep. It just sucked that she'd paid the expensive fare to get all the way over here.
She contemplated doing it again, smiling as she remembered that dimple in Huck's right cheek. She wondered for a brief moment if there was any way to request a specific driver from the Uber app, quickly figuring it was impossible. She decided she'd take the subway, squelching the flash of fear that gripped her stomach. Don't be silly.
She eyed the man next to her uneasily, who was now talking over the loud music and gesturing wildly with his hands, debating with his friend and not paying any attention to the fact that Nicki's "boyfriend" had yet to materialize.
As the bartender handed back her card and thrust a receipt under her nose for her to sign, Nicki rationalized away her fear. There'd be tons of people out, and it was early yet. Surely she'd feel safe enough riding the subway and walking around at night. She'd always felt safe in the city before.
Of course, she'd never walked New York streets alone before. And even if nobody bothered her at all, she faced the great danger of getting lost in a maze of underground tunnels. She didn't have the best sense of direction, and even though she had an MTA app on her phone, the web of colored lines was confusing to a directionally-challenged visitor.
With these thoughts churning in her mind, Nicki pushed back in her swing and planted her heels on the plank floor of the bar, the motion of the swing giving her momentary vertigo. She headed deeper into the bar to find the ladies' room before making her trek across the city. As she walked, she glanced around, taking in the crowd. Briana had said this was a newer bar, and that was evidenced by how packed it was and how glammed up everybody seemed to be. Clearly this was a place to be seen.
She followed a tall woman with stick-straight blonde hair into a black-painted hallway with a flashing—yes, flashing—red neon "restroom" sign hanging above it at the back right corner of the bar. She grew confused when she realized there was only one door at the end with a pull-style handle. The girl in front of her stopped short and looked back at Nicki, bewildered. Nicki shrugged. She knew unisex bathrooms were becoming more en vogue—it's just that usually, they were one-seaters.
She smiled at the woman. "Here goes nothing," Nicki said and pulled the door handle.
The space was long and narrow with prison-gray walls and bright red institutional floor tiles. On the right side of the room was a long row of urinals, and three of them were occupied. Nicki tried not to look, but the guy closest to the door was letting it all hang out, and she couldn't help stealing a peek. He winked at her, and she averted her eyes quickly, her cheeks flaming as red as the floor. He had an attractive face that looked vaguely familiar—she thought maybe she'd seen him on TV, but she couldn't quite place him. She'd seen enough of him now, at any rate.
"Sicko," she muttered under her breath. She made a beeline for the row of mirrored stalls lining the left side of the room. This place is a flasher's dream, she thought with a shudder. Yet another playground metaphor, albeit a dark one.
Which was, undoubtedly, the point.
She did her business as quickly as possible and washed and dried her hands—rolling her eyes at the fact that only the female patrons seemed to feel it necessary to end their pit stop at the row of sinks. She'd always suspected that guys didn't wash their hands when they went to the bathroom, but she'd never expected to get confirmation of that fact.
"Boys are gross," she muttered as she crossed the floor to the exit, eliciting a chuckle from a red-haired woman who was shaking her dripping hands and following Nicki to the door.
"Seriously," the woman said, and both of them giggled again as a short, dark-haired guy with a widow's peak and a soul patch opened the bathroom door. His eyes widened, and Nicki watched him do a double-take then step back to look at the unisex symbol on the door.
She shook her head, still laughing to herself as she threaded her way through the bar toward the front doors. She was composing a text to Briana in her head as she stepped around a group of giggling women—a bachelorette party, she realized when she saw a girl wearing a tiara streaming with pink gauze—who were blocking the entry.
When she pushed open the door and stepped through, the rush of hot air caught her off guard. She leaned against the wall just outside the bar for a few minutes, finishing her text. Better name for Playground…Pervert's Paradise. She pulled up the subway app, and she was just starting to make sense of the map—figuring out she needed the A train, though she had no idea which direction to walk to get to the closest station—when her phone chimed with a new text. LOL. Yeah, it's a meat market. Having fun, r u?
Nicki rolled her eyes. She wished.
She pushed off the brick wall and started walking up the sidewalk, watching the blue dot on her phone's GPS to figure out if she was going the right way. She'd only taken a few steps when someone nearby yelled out, "Nicole."
She kept walking, her head in her phone. And then she heard it again.
"Nicole!"
At this she glanced up, but out of idle curiosity, not remembering she'd used her full name earlier and not for one second thinking anybody in this city of strangers would be calling to her. She kept walking and after a few more seconds heard rapid footsteps closing in on her.
"Nicole, wait."
She spun around and found herself face to face with Huck. Her mouth barely had time to drop open before he said, "I'm double-parked. Come on."
He started walking, but she didn't follow. Her brow was puckered in confusion. After he'd gone a few steps, he turned around. He reached out his hand, almost as if he was about to grab hers, but then apparently thought better of it.
"Don't you need a ride?" he said, and then he turned and started walking again.
A couple of college girls stared openly at her as Nicki stood there on the sidewalk with her head cocked to one side, still mystified. One of the girls, petite with auburn hair, gave her a head-to-toe once over just like the women had earlier in the restaurant. Nicki shook her head and squared her shoulders, sick of the judgment. And then she shrugged, dropped her phone in her bag, and half-ran the fifteen steps to Huck's Prius, which was blocking traffic again with the hazard lights flashing.
She opened the back door and climbed in. He started driving before she even had her seatbelt fastened, and Nicki felt a prickle of fear rush up her spine. Had she really just jumped into the car of an almost-stranger? Even if he was a professional driver, she hadn't actually hired him. And where was he taking her, anyway?
"Cop," he said, glancing into the rearview mirror.
Nicki twisted around in her seat, and sure enough, a police officer walking a bicycle was stopping every few feet and ticketing cars that were illegally parked. She thought it must be a lucrative endeavor in this city. She felt a little better, but not much.
"Where are you taking me?" she asked because it was the question on her mind, and then she felt a little foolish.
"Well, I don't know," Huck said. He laughed. "You tell me."
Nicki opened her mouth and then closed it again, suddenly not even remembering the name of her hotel. "I…um…" Her voice trailed off, and she fished in her bag for her phone to find the address.
Her fingers closed around the bright pink case of her iPhone, and as she pulled it from the bag, she asked, "Did you just sit there waiting for me this whole ti
me?"
His eyes flashed to hers again in the rearview mirror, sending a shiver all the way down her spine, this time not from fear. He looked sheepish. "Well, not exactly," he said. "I mostly drove around waiting for a spot to open up. But one never did. So eventually I double-parked and let people cuss at me while I watched the door. I was afraid I'd missed you. And then that cop turned up, and I was about to drive off again when you finally came outside."
"But…why?" Nicki was truly baffled.
"I figured you needed a ride," he said. She stared into the mirror, but his eyes weren't on it now. He was watching the road. Nicki turned her head to glance out the window. The street they were on was a main one, and it was busy with cars and people. The sidewalks were packed with people going into and coming out of the many bars and restaurants that filled this neighborhood.
"I was planning to take the subway," she said, meeting his eyes in the mirror again.
He shrugged, and his voice had the sound of a smile in it. She imagined that dimple in his right cheek, though she couldn't see it. "I'm sorry. I know it was…presumptuous of me. It's just that I was kind of done…with this. For today." He paused. "And besides, you were bound to be more interesting than anybody else Uber would've hooked me up with tonight."
His explanation only left her more confused.
"Don't you…work a set schedule?" It was the least important of the questions rolling around in her head, but she wanted to understand how he was able to wait for her. She felt the warmth of his "more interesting" comment as if it were brushing over her skin.
He laughed nervously and then turned off the main road—Bleecker still, she'd noticed a street sign—onto a quieter block that was mostly residential with signs for a few businesses that were closed for the night. Huck pulled into an open street space, put the car in park, and then twisted sideways in his seat to talk to her. Nicki had to shift to the right, leaning on her right hand, to see his face.
"No," he said, and now he looked completely embarrassed. "I…I shouldn't even be telling you this, because it kind of ruins the gig, but…I'm not really an Uber driver. At least, not usually."
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